I am an irony.
The medics often call it
an emergency.
Though I assume, the poets
would argue and claim it
a masterpiece.
To call it as it is,
I prefer the term
tragedy.
Moronically,
I am a walking clock
ticking until
the time is up.
A camera clicking
until the film is out.
I am a miracle
and ten.
An excuse for a daughter.
A waste of a warm seat.
Extra space in the luggage,
never a carry-on.
I am the embodiment
of sand
drifting through the desert.
A pebble stuck in a shoe.
A wet sock with a hole at the end.
As inconvenient as may be,
I am
a testimony.
A promise
waiting to be met.
A memory
that hasn’t happened yet.
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 1:58 AM UTC
I am an irony.
The medics often call it
an emergency.
Though I assume, the poets
would argue and claim it
a masterpiece.
To call it as it is,
I prefer the term
tragedy.
Moronically,
I am a walking clock
ticking until
the time is up.
A camera clicking
until the film is out.
I am a miracle
and ten.
An excuse for a daughter.
A waste of a warm seat.
Extra space in the luggage,
never a carry-on.
I am the embodiment
of sand
drifting through the desert.
A pebble stuck in a shoe.
A wet sock with a hole at the end.
As inconvenient as may be,
I am
a testimony.
A promise
waiting to be met.
A memory
that hasn’t happened yet.
